


Pack First

by the_song_you_gave_me



Series: Brick in the Wall [9]
Category: Alpha and Omega - Patricia Briggs, BRIGGS Patricia - Works, Mercy Thompson Series - Patricia Briggs
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-11 00:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15960707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_song_you_gave_me/pseuds/the_song_you_gave_me





	Pack First

Darryl’s eyes glow yellow. He focuses not on the coyote trotting down the front porch steps, but on Adam’s body still in the bed of Charles’ truck.

The big man all but shakes his head, “What the hell, Charles.”

The Marrok’s second leans back on his truck, watching Darryl carefully.

“Mercy!” Auriele calls out and the coyote yips and saunters up. “Thank goodness you're alright,” she sighs as Mercy winds around Auriele’s legs in greeting, “We felt you get injured as soon as we got out of the woods. Charles just said you turned wolf.”

Mercy hops up to the bed of Charles’ truck. She tilts her head first to Auriele, then to Darryl.

Charles looks to Mercy with a sideways glance. “I don’t know how she’s in coyote form, Auriele. But I saw her heal from the wounds of Adam’s attack on her own.”

Darryl gives a warning growl. “Adam wouldn’t have attacked her,” he defends.

“The Marrok said Adam did.” Charles glares at Darryl, daring him to respond.

Darryl’s gaze flashes to Charles who waits with stoic calm. The coyote’s hackles rise.

When Darryl makes no further challenge, Charles continues in a low voice, “The smell of witchcraft was on the air. There was something wrong with that whole section of the forest. I don’t disagree with you Darryl, I’m shocked by what happened too. Adam was a good man.”

They all look to the dead wolf.

Mercy whines and paws her mate’s body, shuffling her weight from foot to foot. She finds a spot of Adam’s back not covered in blood and lies down to curl up against him. Mercy tucks her head down by her tail.

Darryl clenches his hands into fists. He shakes them out and wipes his face, pacing a few steps back. “Alright Charles, who do we kill for this?”

Auriele stares at her mate. He glances right back, before returning his eyes back to Charles’ feet. “Come on, now. How do I avenge my dead Alpha?” Darryl speaks firmly, his voice dangerously quiet. Mercy growls.

The air of dominance around Charles strengthens without him making a single move. “Tread carefully, Darryl.” The Marrok’s son warns, “There’s no need to do anything rash.”

“Don’t you threaten him.” Auriele snaps, grabbing Darryl’s arm defensively. She glares at Charles, meeting his eyes before dropping them quickly.

Mercy moves to stand on the open tailgate of Charles’ truck, her growls a little louder. She shows teeth to Auriele.

Charles looks down at the coyote and she growls at him too. Mercy holds his eyes too long, much too long to respect his authority. Charles’ lip curls.

Darryl stares with wide eyes at the coyote holding the gaze of the Marrok’s assassin without flinching with Charles’ wolf hovering near the surface. Auriele worries after her in awe. “Mercy… please. What are you doing? Let Darryl deal with this.”

Mercy snorts, not breaking her gaze from Charles.

“You’re forty pounds of fluff, Mercy. Use your head.” Darryl criticizes, “That’s the biggest damn werewolf this side of the world. He outweighs you eight times his full size, easy.”

“Use your nose, Darryl.” Charles objects, “She’s not just a coyote anymore. She’s a wolf.”

“I think I know a coyote when I see one,” Darryl retorts.             

Mercy begins to change.

Her bones move beneath her fur, growing longer, heavier, slowly, with many a pained gasp. It always looks like it hurts, but this time- perhaps it’s just that first realization of just- how- much- it hurts. The coyote changes slowly, growing larger with every passing moment.

Darryl gapes. After a few moments he speaks, “Well I’ll be. Charles… do you- How is she doing that?”

“I’m not sure.” Charles admits, keeping his voice calm and even. The coyote-wolf hybrid continues to whine through the change. When she comes out of it, the brindled brown wolf meets his gaze with solid yellow eyes. Brother Wolf stares right back. Mercy’s form looks like a bigger, wolfier version of her coyote. She growls at Charles.

“Mercy, stop.” Darryl commands, putting a hand on her shoulder. He sees the danger in Charles eyes. The new wolf couldn’t be stupider to challenge the Marrok’s second.

The brown wolf snarls at Darryl. He takes a step back, automatic regret showing in his face, followed by anger.

The coyote-wolf turns her attention from Charles to take Darryl on with her fierce gaze. Charles watches him struggle not to drop his eyes. Auriele begins to smell like fear.

“Mercedes.” Bran walks down the porch steps with Anna at his heel.

The brindled brown wolf turns her head to the Marrok and exhales in a snuff. Darryl unconsciously steps between his packmate and Bran, causing everyone to tense up.

Bran’s eyes flash gold before returning to hazel. The air clears as the Marrok takes a slow breath in. “I’ll get to you in a moment, Darryl.” Bran speaks softly, Celt in his voice, “First, I’d like a word with my son.”

The Marrok walks to the near side of Charles’ truck, whereas Charles waits still by the rear tire. Mercy’s wolf stands on the tailgate between them. She hovers over their heads and Adam’s corpse in the bed of the truck; her nose tracks Bran as he moves. “You too.” Bran looks up at her.

Mercy sits first then lays down, her head now even with Bran’s. Her yellow eyes stare into his hazel ones.

“I don’t want you two fighting each other,” Bran tells his son in Welsh, though he holds Mercy’s gaze. “At least, not with violence. Is that clear?”

Mercy blinks as Charles nods his head, not looking his father’s way.

“Now, where were we Darryl?” Bran asks, turning his attention. Mercy scrambles down from the tailgate and stands between him and Darryl, her teeth bared.

“If you’re making a statement, it’s poorly contrived.” Bran comments down at her.

She chomps her teeth into his arm.

A collective intake of breath surrounds Bran standing there casually with Mercy’s fangs drawing blood from his forearm. The Marrok remains still, right where he turned to face Adam’s former second. He stares at the brindled wolf with a cold menace in his yellow eyes. Bran smiles slowly, showing teeth. A sharp amusement twitches at the corner of his mouth.

“I could make you pack, right here and now. Would you like that?” he challenges.

She lets go and spits out his blood.

Bran scratches her ears with the same arm she just bit. “Unfortunately for you, new wolves can’t be Alpha. As much as I know tradition pains you Mercy, let Darryl take the lead.” The Marrok meets Darryl’s eyes with no offense or insult meant and adds, “Even if you are more dominant than him.”

Darryl exhales out his nose. Bran’s arm heals over as they face off.

“Your pack is still welcome back into the fold, of course,” the Marrok informs him. Bran nods to Mercy, “Mercedes stays here with us though, at least until she learns some control.”

Darryl purposefully relaxes his shoulders. “I willingly accept your invitation on behalf of the Columbia Basin pack.” His dark eyes hold Bran’s gaze, “Do you want to do this now?” His whole air is tense, full of wary reluctance.

Bran tilts his head and continues to scratch Mercy’s ears. The new wolf manages not to give a silent growl. At length, Bran answers, “Yes… the sooner the better, I think. Here,” He grabs Mercy’s nose and encourages the wolf to go toward Darryl. “Once she knows she isn’t Alpha, we can make this official.

Mercy stands behind Darryl, who does his best not to turn and watch her. The Marrok steps forward and begins the ceremony to bring Darryl and all of the Columbia Basin Pack into his official influence once again.

Magic zings through the wolves.

Bran turns his back and walks in to the house. Mercy quickly follows at his heels.

Charles tells Darryl and Auriele, “There is food inside, which you are welcome to. Feel free to stay where you like, our town is open to you.”

“I’d rather not stay here,” Auriele hugs herself.

Darryl looks to Charles’ feet again, his shoulders tense. Charles waits for him.

“Is your father going to be alright?” Darryl asks him.

Charles turns his head to the new Alpha. “Of course, he will.”


End file.
